Chapter 27
27
Two Months Later
My head throbs as I enter Antonio’s office. We’re post a four-hour meeting, where we discussed the record-breaking casino earnings and potential expansion to a second location. To which I voted in opposition. So did Antonio.
Laundering money through one location is risky as it is. I’ll sacrifice money for a lesser headache. I’m already pushing my luck and in jeopardy of prison time for everything I do.
Antonio’s jackass uncle, Sonny, kept pushing the matter, like it’d make his dick grow bigger, making the meeting drag on and on . Eventually and thankfully, Vincent kicked everyone out and said we’d revote in two weeks. My vote won’t change.
Lucky Kings is more than a front for illicit financial activities. We also manage it as a legitimate company. Our income has increased fourfold in the past five years. We have a fleet of employees who focus on advertising, basic running of the casino, and even an HR department.
Rumors follow the casino, but many of our employees are law-abiding citizens who receive legal paychecks. They don’t know what happens behind closed doors—how we wash five-dollar bills to convert them to hundreds or transfer money across so many overseas accounts that our accountants even have trouble keeping track.
“Are you still pissed at me?” Antonio asks, kicking his feet up on his desk.
Relaxing in the chair opposite his desk, I casually trace my finger around the edge of my whiskey glass. “I’m not pissed. I’m frustrated you hid it from me.”
“Stop being frustrated. I did you a favor,” he says in a dry tone. “Pippa can come around more.” He steeples his fingers together. “There’s another issue we need to discuss.”
Just hearing the words another issue makes my head throb.
I’d like one day where there’s no another issue .
Where it’s sunshine and I can spend the day with Pippa without a million problems crawling around my brain like a virus.
I raise a brow. “What’s that?”
He drops his feet off the desk and sits up straight. “Vinny is out of control. He’s acting too reckless.”
“Is there ever a time when he’s not being reckless?”
Everyone knows the family's downfall will begin when Vincent steps down or dies and Vinny takes control of the family. I’ve overheard men discussing exit strategies to leave the country when that day comes.
Vinny is good at what he does, but he’s also too impulsive.
He has bigger plans beyond running the Lombardi family.
He aspires to be the king of New York.
To dethrone Cristian Marchetti.
He runs his mouth too much about it.
Anyone with a functioning brain understands Cristian is the worst person to go to war with.
“If we’re talking reckless, can I speak freely?” I ask him .
He provides a you have the floor gesture, and I gulp down my whiskey.
“You need to end things with Giana Marchetti.”
Antonio has a secret.
A secret that’ll take us to war if Vinny doesn’t.
One that’ll piss off Cristian Marchetti far more than Vinny singing his own rendition of Simba’s “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.”
“Cristian will kill you,” I remind him for what feels like the thousandth time.
Any threat to his daughter is something Cristian will never tolerate. Not that I believe Antonio would ever intentionally hurt Gigi. From what I’ve heard, he has killed for her . But not many people, possibly including her, knows that.
I learned about his affair with Gigi when he dragged me to Italy with him, Amara, and Clara. We had a good trip, but there was no relaxing for me when I found out why we were there. He chased down Gigi at her aunt’s in Tuscany. He’d hang out with Amara during the day and then wander off to fuck Gigi at night.
Antonio rises to his feet, strolls to the drink cart, and pours himself another. I shake my head, declining his refill offer.
“Keep an eye on my brother,” he instructs me. “Rumor has it, Cristian is fucking his ex.”
I flex my hand around my glass. “We might be fucked.”
He nods. “I’m positive we’re fucked.”
Revenge is so fucking sweet.
It’s my favorite goddamn flavor.
“You did a great job at hiding,” I tell Herman, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth and circling him. “But you should’ve known it was only a matter of time before we found you.”
“I didn’t know who you were!” he cries out, drool falling from his mouth. He wiggles in his chair, struggling to break free from the tape restraining him in it. His movements become more frantic with each second. Even if he breaks the tape, he can’t run with zip-tied ankles.
Or with the leg I shot a bullet through five minutes ago.
Herman Jackson. Forty-four. Piece-of-shit cyber hacker.
The man who helped the Popovs hack into my family’s security system.
He’s the last man on my list, and I can’t wait to cross his name off.
After I watch him take his last breath, we’ll have killed every man responsible for my family’s murder.
I slide black leather gloves over my hands. Julian does the same before handing me a vial and keeping one for himself.
He’s trying to keep his emotions in check, but I know my little brother.
I see the emotional storm in his eyes.
We agreed to do this together.
I play with the vial in my hand. Herman has finally shut his loud ass up, most likely trying to add up in his idiot head what we’re doing.
While I was honest when I told Pippa we had Ace’s venom removed, I withheld the information of what we had done with it. Antonio had it stored in vials and refrigerated them. We save the venom for the right moments. It’s one of our methods of killing.
Julian and I decided we didn’t want the men to go to prison.
We didn’t want to recite some sob story to a courtroom about how our family’s deaths destroyed us and we missed them so fucking much.
No, we wanted to kill those responsible ourselves.
To take the final breaths from their bodies.
Julian glances at me in question, and I nod.
Herman thrashes his body from side to side.
Screaming.
Begging.
Apologizing.
Every word he says makes me sick.
The idea of him believing we’d spare his life is laughable.
We dip the syringes in the venom, and I watch in fascination as it fills with the transparent liquid. Each of us, using one hand, holds Herman’s head back, restraining him. We use the other to puncture the needles into his neck.
He screams.
Wails.
Kicks his feet.
We sit in chairs opposite him. We’ve never given someone a double dose before. Due to our limited supply, we avoid wasting the venom. One always does the trick. Given the situation, Antonio gave us permission to use as much as we wanted.
I check my watch, waiting patiently.
Ticktock.
Ticktock.
The effects of the venom kick in fast.
With a satisfied smile, I watch Herman’s death as if it’s the performance of a lifetime. He opens his mouth and unleashes a gut-wrenching scream of pain.
Over and over.
Like how you’d replay a favorite song.
I fucking love it .
When Herman’s neck starts swelling, Julian bursts into laughter.
More pained screams.
More satisfaction oozes from my bones.
Soon, Herman will hemorrhage .
His blood will clot, causing internal bleeding.
Then, his useless kidneys will fail him.
I whistle to the beat of his cries, and heat radiates through my chest.
It doesn’t take long for the venom to work.
Fifteen minutes later, Herman is as dead as AOL’s dial-up internet.
We share a moment of silence when he shuts his annoying ass up and his body collapses forward like a sack of rotten potatoes.
On the drive here, Julian and I discussed how long we wanted Herman to suffer. In the end, we settled on fast and painful.
Every week, when I visit my family’s tombstones, I vow to kill every man who played a part in their deaths. Now, I can tell them we succeeded.
We spend the next half hour silently staring at Herman’s dead body.
The foam that trickled out of his mouth has dried, crusting along his lips. The color of his skin is already starting to change.
“Let’s get him to the morgue,” I tell Julian, standing. “We’ll pick him up later and scatter his ashes at the city dump, where he belongs.”
We reverse a stolen SUV into the warehouse and roll Herman’s body inside before tossing a tarp over it, along with gas cans and other shit to avoid suspicion if we’re pulled over.
I slip the mortician two hundred dollars and leave.
I have a surprise for my dancer tonight.